


Desire of the Wolf

by Talkin_to_a_Lady



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Light Dom/sub, Low Honor Arthur Morgan, Oral Sex, Prostitution, Rough Sex, Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:27:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28071684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talkin_to_a_Lady/pseuds/Talkin_to_a_Lady
Summary: There's a stranger in town. One who stirs fear through the community. But stirs something else in you.
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Reader
Comments: 8
Kudos: 79





	Desire of the Wolf

**Author's Note:**

> Low Honour Arthur is here!

It was time. You could feel it on the breeze – the stinging change in the air brought that now familiar tension with it. _Black Week_. It wasn’t just you that was touched by it, the whole town felt the shift. Regardless of the season, every month it was the same; the sky darkened to a deep grey, and the wind whipped up small, choreographed dust clouds in the roads, a tell-tale sign that he was soon to arrive; the man the whole town called “ _Wolf_ ”. They didn’t dare say that name in anything more than hushed tones, for fear they would summon him longer than the few days he ever stayed. His very presence from the first time he visited instilled fright in the locals, and it seemed he had chosen you to be the one companion he would be amiable to spending his company with.

“Amiable” is probably too strong a word, thinking back to your first encounter with the man. It had been a strangely cold and dark evening for that time of year when a solitary figure stood in the doorway of the Saloon; eyeing the jovial scene as it froze at his arrival. He was statuesque in height and broader than a draft horse; nearly filling the doorway before he stalked his way to the bar, leaning low as he nursed his whiskey. His dark-blond locks fell forward of his jawline; it was a little shorter than shoulder length which only leant itself to guide one’s eye to the black shirt that strained across his back. Men at the bar edged away from the figure, and the women drew straws to see who would be the first to attempt prizing the man’s money from his pocket. You became the sacrifice.  
It was with nervous yet steady footing that you made your way over to the monolith at the bar, the owner glaring at you to hurry up and give the man an opportunity to not kill every one of his customers.  
He didn’t shift one inch from his position and continued to glare sternly at the hooch-soaked bar top as you leaned beside him.  
“Well hi there, darli-”  
His thick hand gripped your wrist as you dared run a delicate finger down his tight bicep, and a flash of marbled-green pierced your soul, “You work here?” his voice was gruff and deep, and he proved to be not much of a talker as his bristled jaw clenched shut immediately after.  
“Y-yes.”  
With the wince of a smile, he knocked back his whiskey and slammed the empty glass down, “Then, you got a job to do.” He let go of your wrist and nodded towards the staircase.  
You put on your best, sweetest smile, “Well then, follow me, honey.” He shifted back from your outstretched hand, and you took that as indication to lead the way.  
Once in your room the strangeness of the encounter didn’t lessen. You had been used to rude and somewhat sullen men, but usually by the time they had you to themselves their demeanour lightened. The stranger simply pushed passed you and made his way over to the bed, and with his back to you began unbuckling his gun belts.  
“You need a hand my love? Or some introductions at least? My name is-”  
“I ain’t here for pleasantries. Just need to fuck my mind clear.” Was the low, growling response. A little taken back by his manner, you stood somewhat redundantly as you watched the man strip down quickly and silently. His body was solid knots of muscles and scars that cut across his skin like he was born with them, and despite his lack of courtesy, you found yourself almost breathless in awe at the taut figure as he turned to face you.  
“What? You don’t undress unless the money’s on the table? You’ll have it, _if you conduct yourself properly_.”  
Even the rumble of his demand was enough to send the prickle of heat through you, and as you slipped off your garments, his eyes seemed to change into something animal and he began to swell at the sight of you.  
He never conversed with you, nor did more than pull you on top of him and allow you to clear his mind. He was big, even for your experienced body to take on, and you winced as you stretched to accommodate him.  
His body was strong and warm to the touch, and you felt so small in his control. He gripped your hips firmly and moved you with such a commanding force, it felt like you had never been fucked before. He knew what he wanted and how to get a Saloon Girl wanting it too, and the roughness of it all only worked to finish you before he was done, leaving you to ride the wave of pleasure through his ever-thickening desire.  
Once sated, The Wolf lifted you off and pulled on his clothes once more, never really acknowledging you beyond asking how much and throwing the money on your dresser, “You can expect me again.” he said as he left, “Whenever my mind’s racin’.”  
From then on, the routine was always the same. The nature would change around your town, and then he would appear; dressed in black, scanning the room to see your whereabouts, nod at you and head up the stairs for a time you almost felt you should pay him for.

This time it’s different.  
He arrives at the Saloon and prowls the room for you; his expression is dark, and the bar’s light catches his eyes from under his hat, reflecting like wild dogs’ eyes in the night. He locks his gaze on you and goes to the bar. Never letting you leave his sight, he slams down cash with two words to the bartender, “Whiskey... _Bottle_.”  
The order arrives in his hand, and he turns away from you slowly, pulling the bottle’s cork with his teeth, swigging a good quarter of its contents, and with a roll of his shoulders he takes to the stairs with a long, striding gait. From the moment he arrived the bar, not one man dared to stand close to you, and a clear pathway is made for you to go tame the beast.  
As you enter your room, you notice the lamp is dimmed into a warm orange glow. He is sitting on your chaise, his arms stretched across the back of it, one hand gripping the now half-empty bottle of whiskey, and he is fully clothed. He is even more stern than his usual conduct, but you know him well enough, and you step softly towards him with a gentle smile at his sullenness, “You’re not where I thought I’d find you. Nor attired in the same way.”  
“’m tired.” came the response from the shadows before another glug of liquor slides itself down his throat.  
“And why might that be?”  
You pushed it too far. The sharp green eyes flash back at you angrily from under the hat’s brim, “Ain’t nothin’ of your goddamn concern.”  
“ _Course_ ,” you nod. Something inside you is burning to irritate him further, “ _you ain’t here for pleasantries are ya_?”  
He finishes the bottle and throws it against the corner of the fireplace causing it to splinter into a thousand tinkling pieces on the floor, “You sure got a mouth on you today.”  
“Considering your change of location in my quarters, I figured we were all out to try something new.”  
He removes his hat and leans forward with a broad, wicked grin, “ _Come ‘ere._ ”  
Something about the delivery of his command makes you tread cautiously.  
“I said _come here_.” He reaches out, grabs your skirt, and pulls you sharply to him.  
You can smell the whiskey on his breath, he was more than likely drinking before he even reached town. He looks up at you with wary eyes as he runs his hands up under your garments, stroking your legs hungrily, “How many men d’you get through waitin’ on me to return?” He grips your legs tightly, just below your ass.  
“Wha-?”  
“And how many of them fellas make you ache for ‘em, huh?”  
“I don’t see how that’s your-”  
“My business?!” his hands twist to grip the fabric of your undershorts, “ _It ain’t._ ” he pulls them down with one sharp rip, “And you’d do well to remember what’s for discussin’ with me.” He slaps your ass hard before gripping your hips and forcing you to your knees, “ _Besides_ ,” he leans forward, his lips almost touching your own, “I know they don’t make you yearn right.” He lets his hands slide firmly across your skin, and you shudder excitedly as his thumb makes the swiftest graze across the crease at your thigh edge before he takes his hands from you and sits up to look at you sat between his legs, “I think you need to remember your place.” He runs a thick hand over his mouth as he contemplates how best to toy with his prey, “Maybe a change-up is needed.”  
You shift awkwardly, trying to alleviate some of the pressure from your knees on the floorboards. He has a way of keeping you under his spell that no other customer could possibly hope to entertain. Not that most would, even as curt as he was, it seemed that this man’s idea of “mind-clearing” involved a lot of getting you excited.  
He finally wakes from his daydream and kicks off his boots before running his warm, rough hands down your arms, lightly lifting your hands and sliding them up his thighs to his button fly, “Seein’ as you seemed so eager first time we met, and I’m _so tired_ today, how’s about you look after me properly, huh?” Something animalistic briefly flashes across his eyes, “ _Take ‘em off me._ ” He lets go of your hands and leans back, his arms across the back of the chaise once more. He watches you as you silently work his pants loose. You can feel the heat pouring from between his legs and you shake with impatience to release him. You hear him chuckle darkly above you as he sees your eagerness. He lifts his ass up so you can pull his pants off, and his already swollen length springs ready for you. Seeing your eyes widen excitedly, he grins as he settles back onto the chaise, “Time for you to apologise for workin’ that mouth wrong… Why don’t you start usin’ it _proper_?”  
With no further guidance needed, you make your way to him, and take him in your mouth for the first time. The warmth of your mouth around him causes the man to rock his head back, and produce a deep, guttural moan. It spurs you on to go deeper onto him and you hear his nails scrape against the wooden frame of the chaise, “ _Sweetheart_.” he whispers before he can stop it from leaving his lips, and you look up to see him bite down on his lower lip. His hand drops down to the back of your head and he winds his fingers through your hair. You feel him shift his position more upright before he pushes you further onto him, his strong fingers gripping your skull as he moves you faster, humming with need as you grip the thick muscles of his ass tightly.  
“That’s it, girl,” he purrs, “show me how sorry you are.”  
You begin to feel him tense and shudder beneath you, as your tongue snakes around his shaft. Suddenly he wrenches you from him and pushes you back as he stands, “Stand up.” he demands as he pulls his shirt off impatiently. You oblige without question and stay perfectly still as he walks behind you. You hear the flick of a knife and feel a sudden rush of cool air across your skin as the cotton petticoat below your corset is sliced away from you. You move to unclasp the front of your corset and you feel a heavy hand grab your arm, “ _I never told you to do that_.” He spins you around to face him, “I want you laced tight.” He drags his hand down your neck, over your collar bone and across your soft heaving breasts, making your skin pucker. Your eyes can’t help but wander across his body. His skin glows in the orange lamplight, and the shadows cast by his muscles leave you lost in a sea of yearning, just as he knew it did.  
You were quickly brought back out of the haze by a rough turn and shove towards the chaise. The man bends you forwards and kicks your legs wide apart, “You nearly had me done there.” He growls, “You ain’t bad at apologisin’.” Then he rubs his hand smoothly across your ass, “But I want my money’s worth.” He slaps your ass hard again; the sting makes you yelp a little and his dark chuckle reappears, “My poor girl,” he rumbles as he warms the reddening cheek with his hand, “is she startin’ to remember her place now?”  
“ _Yes,_ ” you whine with desire.  
“Yes _what?_ ” he asks as he leans forward, tugging at your hair to make your back curve.  
“Yes, Sir.”  
“ _Hmmmmm_.” he contemplates, letting his hands meander down your spine to the curve at your waist, “I best check to make sure…” he pushes himself against you and runs his hands down your hips, gently stroking between your legs. The feel of your slick makes him moan in his throat and he excitedly pushes two fingers in, causing you to instantaneously gasp and grind onto him as he rubs his length urgently against your ass. He forces you to place your hands on the seat, and he lifts your ass higher, before plunging his thickness hard and deep into you. He is thicker than you have felt before and the force at which he slams against you makes you ache as you feel the wave of your pleasure crash against him. The force of his own crescendo nearly knocks you off your feet, but his grip on you as he pulls you roughly back onto him keeps you safe.  
“Ain’t no one takes a fuckin’ like you girl,” he strains through gritted teeth as he pushes his final hard, hot, thick thrust deep into you with a loud, deep growl.

He finishes rolling his hips against you, and pulls out with a breathless stagger, leaving you doubled over, catching your breath. He grabs a cigarette from the dresser and leans against it as he smokes, admiring the glistening, satisfied mess that you have become by his hand, watching you pick up the ruined cotton dress from the floor and use it to dab your skin down. He pulls on his pants and goes to his satchel, pulling out a large stack of bills, some with an ominous dried red stain that has spread from the edges, he hands you the entire stack and goes to finish dressing.  
“I don’t have change, Sir.”  
He grins at that word, “I know that’s a lie. A good fuck like you?” he swaggers up to you as he buckles his gun belt, “You’ll have more money than the bank!” he stubs out his cigarette on your dresser, “It’s all yours. See it as an advance. Or see it as now you don’t need no useless limp-peckered customers when I ain’t here.” He glares as you bluster a laugh at his comment. “ _I ain’t sharin’ you with those dirty bastards no more. **You work for me**._”  
“Bu-”  
“Your boss ain’t gonna argue.” He snaps as he goes to the door, “I’ll tell him, and he’ll nod along.”  
“So… what am I to do now…?”  
“ _Yearn_.” Was all he said, and the door closed behind him.


End file.
